Hellmouth Series: Alive
by Buffkin
Summary: The aftershock of the Manor incident turns the Hunters into a strange new direction, having to fight one of their own.


Hellmouth #13  
"Alive"  
  
"So..... Um..... What prize did you end up with?" Ky asked. She sat in the lobby of the hospital in a chair too cushy for her taste. Of all the chairs lined-up side-by-side, the only other person in her section of the lobby sat directly behind her, back-to-back. She leaned her head back and rested it on his shoulder comfortably. She felt him tense, like a stranger getting touched in a crowded room, but eventually his muscles relaxed so that, for the first time since the longest night of his life began, his mind was able to stop running. "Well," Lock drew in a deep breath, "I am blessed with an obscene amount of stitches from six varying spots on my body, including two deep gouge wounds. Zero major organs damaged and zero signs of internal bleeding, but I did get a nice gasping sound from the doctor when he saw my bruises. He kept wanting me to call the police when I told him I was jumped by a gang." Lock laid his head over her shoulder as well, as if they were comfortably interlocking necks.  
  
Ky smiled. As strange and as horrific as the evening has been, and as much as she knows how things have changed as much as they have, she fondly remembers how they used to lay together like this. Nothing romantic involved, but they would sit here in the lobby together, Gene sitting next to Ky playing his handheld videogames and Captain Jon sitting next to Lock, always worried about whoever got hurt on the hunt that night. Captain Jon never really minded them laying as they were, except for when he would quiz Lock on his Captain's training and Ky would whisper things in his ear; on more than one occasion, Jon would ask him to list the ways to kill a vampire, and Ky would whisper something along the lines of "asbestos" or "oregano," and it would unwittingly slip out of Lock's mouth. Years have gone by and times have definitely changed, but laying here with him despite the events of the evening brings back such warm and happy emotions from her. "Speaking of full-body bruises, shouldn't you be in a hospital bed right about now?"  
"Me? No..... actually, I probably should be, but I've been in enough hospital beds to know my limitations. I'm one semester away from getting my doctorate in how to take an ass-whuppin. What about you? I know you didn't walk away clean....."  
"Nope. Me and Aimee both had severe dehydration and fatigue, and I got my normal treatment for migraines," Ky replied.  
Lock's eyes narrowed in confusion, "So are you the only one who gets headaches from this?"  
"Heh, no. The migraines come when your body surpasses it's former limits in terms of channeling the mystical energy. Aimee and Kelsey don't get the migraines because they never push themselves further than they should go. Me being a tomboy and all means I have to compete with you and Gene."  
"So what'd y'all end up with?"  
"Nothing really. We got hooked up to some I.V.s and I got a few shots for the pain."  
"That's nothing."  
"Death from afar..... Keeps you kind of out of the action. That's how your Regulars made it through okay, right?"  
"Pretty much. Jamie was the only Regular that had to come in. He got scathed by a fang in the neck right before Mack dusted it. Gene's Axe Units took the majority of the punishment other than me and Gene."  
"Where is Gene?" Ky asked, absent-mindedly, content with the flow of the conversation.  
Gene and Larson sat in the cafeteria wing of the hospital, choking down the take-out that Gene brought in with as much fervor as the battle they just fought. Tiffany had arrived with Gene a few minutes earlier; she had fought with him about his injuries on the car ride over, injuries which weren't even close to substantial compared to Lock's (that argument proved worthless when he brought it to her attention). Now she simply leaned in his right arm while he scooped in food with his left hand.  
"So, I still don't understand," Larson said between bites, "How did you come to be soaking wet again?"  
"Tiffany keeps a pitcher of holy water near the front door cuz I told her that if I ever disappear for two days or more, then don't trust a word I say until she hits me with the water," Gene explained, taking in another handful of French fries.  
"Sounds understandable enough," Larson replied.  
"Yeah, I thought so too until she completely caught me off guard with it. Stale-ass water....." Gene squeezed more liquid from the jersey he managed to change into.  
"It's his fault," Tiffany explained, "because he didn't even tell me he was leaving. I haven't heard from him in three days. You think he cares?"  
"Three days? My god, man, we've only been gone one night," Larson queried.  
"No, you know just as well as I do that we've been knee-deep in this stuff ever since I came back from leave; me, you, and Lock, at least."  
"Quite right. My apologies."  
"Anyways, fellas, I'm out. My body still hasn't gotten accustomed to another body brewing inside me, so I need to get whatever sleep I can before nausea comes back into season," Tiffany stood up and shook slightly.  
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Gene asked, worried. He stood up and groaned even louder.  
Tiffany laughed, "Better than you, apparently. Are you gonna actually make it home tonight?"  
"Here's hopin....."  
"You're really pressing your ever-so-patient wife here, Eugene. Larson, if you will, give Lock my best when you see him. I know me and Jules never really got along that well, but I still send my regards," Tiffany asked. Larson nodded his compliance through a mouthful of food and Gene walked Tiffany to the door, arguing with her over calling him by his full first name in front of his fellow employees.  
"Women....." Gene snuffed, taking his seat again.  
"Remarkable relationship you two have. How does she put up with you being gone all the time?"  
"Well, mostly, she knows what I do. We have a deal: if I don't die on her, she wont cheat on me. Things are gonna change real soon when the baby comes, though."  
"I can imagine. Locklear is having a hard enough time dealing with everything else going on; I'm sure losing you isn't going to help."  
"He's not gonna lose me. I'm just not going to be the all-nighter guy that I am. Tiffany is a jewel for putting up with me like she has, and I cant think of anyone more important in my life. That's gonna change when I have a child, and Lock is just gonna have to deal that the price of my life just got higher."  
"Have you talked to Locklear since we got here?" Larson finished the last of his cheeseburger and fries and leaned back in his chair, enjoying the splendid feeling of physical contentment.  
"He came in my room when I was getting checked out. He didn't say much. He asked me how I was doing and where Ky was."  
"Yes. He was with Ky in the lobby when we last talked. He hasn't even said Jules' name since we got here."  
"I'm surprised he's saying much of anything. He was practically comatose when we got him in here this morning. He barely had enough energy to tell the regulars to pile the injured into the vans," Gene lowered his head and slumped his shoulders, getting himself into his traditional eating stance when Tiffany isn't around to make fun of his posture.  
"It is strange how we couldn't get an ambulance or two out to the Manor. Can you remember the last time 911 refused to send a dispatch?"  
"Are you kidding me? That was definitely an inside deal. Why weren't there any cops there? I mean, this wasn't our normal abandoned warehouse or empty stadium. This was a City of Cleveland event, and we couldn't get anybody out there....."  
"Everyone is safe, for the most part, and all we're left with is a few bloodstains in the vans. I am most worried about Jules and Locklear."  
"Lock?" Gene inquired, "He's fine. No reason to worry about him. Jules is the one in critical condition, here."  
"There is such an interesting dynamic between Captain Locklear and Captain Jon, don't you think?" Larson wiped his hands off on his handkerchief. Gene's eyebrow curled, fascinated to see what Larson was getting at. Larson cleared his voice and continued, "Jon and I were as close as you and Locklear are. I'm not very mournful of Jon, because he talked out every emotion with me, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going to die. He had no fear of it. The reason I fear for Locklear is because he was much younger than Jon when he took the position of Captain, and he's still young now."  
"I don't know," Gene interrupted, "Jon didn't say much to us, and he loved Lock like a son til it was game time and then the man was all business."  
"You all were young; too young. Jon and I talked about everything, but he would only tell you what you needed to know. He told me everything he felt. That man had it hard, but he shared every point of contention with me. I never see Locklear sharing that with you, and that worries me. He tends to bottle up a lot of emotions."  
"You don't think that's the least bit good for him? Him being a leader and all....."  
"No, I don't. Jules herself spends an incessant amount of time talking to me during our research, and despite my accustomed ability to drowned her out, what I have picked up is that Lock is the least intimate person in the world to her."  
"Hold on, now, from what I heard, the man's a stallion....." Gene laughed. Larson found it ill-placed.  
"I'm not talking about the 'who's manlier' contests the two of you are so fond of. I'm talking in terms of their non-sexual escapades, like cuddling and such."  
"Cuddling?"  
"You are such an ass."  
"Naw, it's just funny hearing the word in that accent."  
"Hmmm. Never the less, there's no cuddling or deep conversation happening in that relationship. Locklear's never even told her that he loved her; she had this vivid talk to me and apparently the bookshelf a week back about her wondering of when the right time for her to tell him that she loved him was. It all makes me wonder why Lock looked so guilty when he was carrying her in?"  
"Guilty? His girlfriend, the woman he may or may not love but definitely cares for, was dying in his arms and Lord knows what kind of shape she's in right now. I think we're all taking it a little too well that one of our own is fighting for her life in that hospital bed. Lock especially has the most to deal with. The man just has a hard time admitting his feelings openly. Guilty?" Gene made a spiting noise off to the side, "No offense, Larson, buddy, but for a direct descendant of the popular race that created the language, you sure have some horrible choices in words sometimes."  
Larson looked to the side, slightly offended until he considered the source, at which time all was forgiven. A moment of silence swept over the two, and Larson snorted out a quick and unexpected chuckle, "Yes, Jules has mentioned the stallion issue on more occasions than I would like to have heard it."  
Dr. Dean Connel has worked much too hard this week. Outside of his personal life, where is ex-wife is taking him back to court for more child support, his mistress just left him with the car he just bought her, he's worked three double shifts this week, this current one being his fourth, and the police have been snooping around thanks to the four bodies that apparently stood up out of the morgue and walked out. Just as soon as he was getting ready to take a break before starting the second part of his shift, a platoon of vans pulled up with injured people in strange matching outfits. Goddamn gang fights, Connel thought as his reaction was not far away from a fast food worker watching a bus full of children pull in the parking lot. In particular, this one girl, Jules according to her records, seems to have the most peculiar ailment ever. These signs she's been showing since those kids brought her in here are abnormalities that have never been seen together, some of which have never even been seen before. On any other day of any other week of any other year, this would be the single most intriguing ailment ever seen in the medical community. Being the first on the scene to diagnose it would shoot his career sky-high, much less being the first to care for it or the first to possibly treat it. This is the chance of a lifetime for Dr. Connel, but this week has taken too much out of him. Tonight, he isn't very ecstatic to see her.  
"I don't get it....." Ky huffed.  
"Okay, for the last time," Lock began.  
Ky laughed, "You don't have to give the history of it again. Just explain to me how it works, cuz you keep saying that Gene's gun is built like a shotgun that shoots wooden-tipped bullets, but I grew up in the south with three brothers, and I'm under the impression that shotguns don't shoot bullets."  
"You're quite right," Lock said, still interlocking necks with his back to hers, "and neither does his. His gun shoots metal shells that release metal pellets that spread like a real shotgun's shells do. However, the metal pellets are lined with cross-sectional fragments of wood. See, the wood doesn't actually have to be what pierces the heart as long as there is some wood in the heart after it's pierced. That's why the bolts we have on the crossbows are tipped with metal; the metal pierces the heart and gives way to the wooden arrow part."  
"And in any other situation, that would sound weird," she smiled and laughed. Lock smiled and nodded his head. She asked, "Where did Gene get the idea for this cuz, god bless him, I know he didn't concoct this all by himself."  
"I thought you said you had the history?" Lock smiled.  
"I have the logistics, and now it's time for the history," she laughed. He couldn't help but return the laugh and smile, and the two caught eyes again. Ever since the kiss, Ky's mind has been completely unstable. Up until last night's kiss, Lock was like a brother to her, and she was constantly in a struggle throughout her teenage years deciding between Lock and Gene for her spot at "bestest" friend. Last night changed all that. She felt guilty that she was feeling these feelings for her friend's boyfriend, guiltier that she's making him feel the same way, and guiltier still that all this is happening while the girl in question could be dying in the next room for all they know.  
Lock began to explain the history of Gene's "wooden-tipped bullet" theory when the doors to the emergency room opened and a doctor stepped through. Lock removed his head from her shoulder as fast as he could and stood to see the doctor, disappointed yet slightly relieved that it wasn't Jules's doctor. Ky turned in her seat to face him, for the first time in the four hours they sat in the room. In those four hours, he had done this several times, and each time it took him several minutes to calm himself enough to regain a jovial poise. Ky wasn't going to let him this time.  
"Okay, time's up, Mr. Taylor. We have to talk," Ky said firmly, not letting the smile Lock was feigning affect her.  
Lock continued smiling, saying, "I thought we'd been talking all along."  
"No, we've been biding our time and avoiding the important stuff. Let's talk."  
"About what?"  
"About you; about what you're feeling and how you're dealing," Ky said firmly.  
"How do you think I feel? She's might be dying back there!"  
"Who, Lock?"  
"Who do you think, Ky?!" His voice rose higher out of frustration and confusion.  
"Say her name, Lock!"  
"Ky, what the hell are you getting at?"  
"Nobody knows you when you get like this, Lock. Hell, I'd venture to say that nobody knows you period. You remember that charity circus we did for those orphans a few months back, and you, Antoine and Gene did the funniest clown bit I've ever seen?" Ky asked. Lock nodded, and she continued, "You were the most deadpan clown I've ever seen. And do you remember when we buried Captain Jon?"  
"You're going too far now, Ky....."  
"Everybody cried their eyes out. Larson was blubbering like a fool. Gene was stoically teary-eyed. You? I've never seen you so light-hearted. You gave a beautiful eulogy, you comforted everybody at the services. For God's sake, Lock, you even told Jon's funniest stories at his wake. We needed you then, and you came through. We thought you were the strongest one amongst us, and that's why not a damn one of us complained when Jon left you as Captain. Do you even have any clue why I was took my 'sabbatical' the last few weeks?"  
"Sure. You were scared because our missions were getting more and more dangerous," Lock stated confidently.  
Tears started to well up in Ky's eyes and her voice started to break, "Hell no, Lock. I was mad! At you! I was so hurt because I realized just how much of a sham that is! The confident Lock we needed at Jon's funeral. The deadpan and funny clown Lock we needed for those beautiful kids. They're all fakes! Facades! I realized that since the moment you found out that these Hunter's lives were going to be yours for the commanding, every high-emotion situation we get in, you shut yourself down. You were my best friend and the closest thing to family I had, and all that changed the first time I called you Captain. You don't look at me as that cute, fragile little witch that you used to hang out with anymore, or that best friend that used to help you pants Larson when he was reporting something urgent to Jon, or anything. I'm just another life in your hands. You cant handle this as much as you think you can, and I know this because I cant handle feeling this way."  
"Ky, if you think I've been neglecting you in any way, I....."  
"NO!" She screamed in sobs. She took a few seconds to calm herself and absorb the tears as others in the emergency room lobby were beginning to stare, ".....no. This is killing you Lock. It's not about me; this is all you. You didn't say two words the whole ride here. You tried to start a fight with the attendants, a fist fight, for God's sake, when they took Jules from you. You haven't even said her name, Lock. You are being eaten alive because you turned off your emotions for the cause and somebody got hurt. Now you wanna feel guilty but you have to turn off your emotions so that we might not feel the pain you're feeling."  
"Do you want to feel this pain?" Lock asked, dryly.  
"I feel it Lock. I feel it on par if not worse than you feel it. You kissed me, Lock. You think I haven't imagined that a million times? Now, a good friend of mine and a girlfriend to you is on life support in the back room and may not survive the night, and all I want in the world right now is to stop thinking about that kiss..... Worse yet, if I've done my math right, that wasn't even you that kissed me, was it? Was it some kind of muscle spasm or psychological reaction? Things got hot and you gotta kiss somebody? Is that what that was?"  
Lock lowered his head. He had no answer. He knew no reason then and he knows no reason now. "ANSWER ME!!!" Ky stood and screamed, getting the surprised attention of Lock and the rest of the lobby. "What answer do you want?" Lock snapped at her while reaching his feet, "Yes? No? You have it all figured out, right? Because you know just what it's like to be me! You have every inkling what it means to be scared more for others than for yourself. You know what it's like to be scrutinized for every decision you make, or have one decision you make go wrong and suddenly someone you care about is dying because you didn't factor in a variable or something happened that you didn't see coming. You know me so well, so how do you think I should answer you?!"  
"It's simple, Lock. Yes or no; did that kiss mean anything?"  
Lock saw the tears hesitate, felt her tone calm, and heard her draw in a breath without releasing it. "No, Ky. Things were confusing. My emotions were shut off, right?" Ky let go of her breath and lowered her head. Tears dropped from the top of her cheek to the hard, carpeted floor. She sniffled and wiped her face with her hand, and with a wrecked voice, said "Okay. Well, I'm tired. Keep me in the loop with what happens and I'll see you on Monday."  
"Ky....."  
"Seriously. I'll be worried about Jules.....I mean, 'her.' Make sure you put on the coffee on Monday. I've been meaning to add a little caffeine to my diet. These long nights are killing me." She turned and started towards the electronic exit door.  
"Ky, please don't....."  
"Give Gene and Larson my best okay. Keep me notified of things....."  
A cold gust of wind came through the lobby when the doors slid open and Ky's shin-length coat flowed like a cape behind her withdrawn frame. Dust caught Lock in the eyes and he lost sight of her as the doors slid shut. The room settled and was once again silent despite the static from the TV playing a muted news channel and the frequent coughs and snores from the now settled lobby occupants. Lock wiped his eyes and brow and gave up on the lobby, exiting towards the cafeteria.  
Walking down the spanning hallways of the hospital took more out of Lock than it should have, and he realized that he was mind, body, and soulfully drained. He spanned the hallways for hours, finding various members of the team and sending them home and talking to doctors that passed by. By the time he watched the sun go down over the buildings lining the outside of the hospital, he realized just how much more comfortable he was when the sun was nowhere to be found and he took the elevator up to the third floor hoping he could make it into her room. He spotted Gene and Larson talking to a man in a white lab coat; Larson spotted Lock and fervently gestured him to come quickly. The man in the lab coat turned and stretched out his hand to shake Lock's, the bags under his eyes and the wear in his clothing exuding years of history and back story. "Hello sir, I'm Dr Connel. The English gentleman here insists that I talk to you about a young Miss....." he opens his records, "..... Julia Kafner. 'Jules' I believe you called her. Are you sure you don't want to sit down in the lobby for this?"  
"Doctor, I've been in the lobby forever now. Just tell me, please," Lock said, his voice slightly irritated but mostly tired.  
"Alright, well, Miss Kafner is experiencing something that we cant really define at the moment. She experienced a lot of blood loss, but not enough to kill her. Her body is taking the transfusions successfully, but we've had to shock her almost every hour. She starts to breath normally, and then suddenly not breathe at all for minutes at a time. Her brain frequencies are..... Well, there seems like the brain is having two, maybe three sets of thoughts. When we resuscitate her, her body shows no signs of straining for air and her brain patterns don't change slightly. It's almost like she's dying but her body doesn't know it. It's not something we've ever seen."  
"Excuse me doctor," Larson subtly moved between Dr Connel and Lock, pushing Lock to the side. Once he had him to the side, he whispered softly, "I know this must be hard for you, Locklear, but I find it hard to believe that this is all coincidence."  
"What do you mean?" Lock asked.  
"Jules was bitten, then she fed from the beast, yet her heart is beating and now the doctor tells us that she's having all these abnormalities. I just don't think we're dealing with something specifically medical here. We need to call Paul."  
"Paul?"  
"Paul Brown," Larson reiterated, "The doctor we saved two years ago? Since we saved him, he's quit his practice and is now applying his knowledge to studying more spiritual and magical medicine. He isn't a master in the field or anything, but he's definitely our best option."  
"Agreed. So do we just leave her here?" Lock looked distraught at the idea.  
"Well, I don't feel we have any other choice....."  
Screams erupted from down the hall and from an open door down the white corridor, two nurses shot out screaming for their lives and soon after a hospital bed flew through the door, crashing against the hallway wall and damaging an overhead emergency sprinkler. Jules walked out, hair fumbled all around like a tornado, heart rate monitors and intravenous units dragging behind her. She cried out and ripped the needles out of her arms and hands, pulling the clip off her finger and the sensor pads from her temples. She mindlessly fumbled with her hospital gown and broke for a dead sprint towards Lock and Larson. Lock's eyes grew wide and he stumbled backwards. Towards him she ran, and when he opened his arms for her, she hit him with her forearm, sending him into the wall and onto Larson. Without slowing down, she headed straight for the window and crashed straight through it, nose diving three stories down. Gene reached out and grabbed Lock's hand and pulled him up. He pulled Larson up next, but by the time they looked to Lock, all the saw was the door to the stairway swinging closed. They took the hint and took chase.  
Jules landed on her feet and sprawled like a cat instinctively, landing in front of a young couple passing by. They scurried away from the falling glass and the man pushed the woman away from Jules, only to be caught by the back of the neck while his girlfriend ran. Jules sniffed him and purred with confusion, unsettled and oblivious. "JULES!" The glass door exit from the lobby opened and Lock sprinted through it. Jules released her hold on the man and took off. Lock and Gene, now coming out of the front, followed while Larson showed a mid-sprint, lackluster worry for the man that was dropped. Jules mad it three blocks down into the heart of Cleveland; people saw something wrong with her and moved quickly out of the way. She howled in agony and dropped to her knees, cutting them badly on the street's cement. Lock and Gene arrived right before she began pulling her hair out. She made eye contact with Lock and for the first time, he saw her face stretched and forehead arched along with the distinct golden glower cutting him. He stopped dead in his tracks and withdrew, grabbing and stopping Gene. They stared at her in fear and in shame, now fully aware the situation they were facing. In the moonlight and the street lamps, they could see her face shift quickly back to human, and then vamping out again. She had glared at them enough; she growled and leapt.  
Lock took her palm to his face before he could think otherwise, and Gene couldn't react to her speed in time to avoid her bare foot roundhouse to his cheek. Larson made it through and punched Jules in the face, her stumbling backwards and him reeling from not having learned how to throw a real punch before. Gene swept his leg under hers, but she caught herself and sprang above it. Lock jumped up and struck her twice in the stomach and again swinging an elbow into her jaw, but she blocked an ensuing punch and swung Lock into the direction of a kick from Gene, knocking Lock quickly to the ground and leaving Gene open two fist strikes to the stomach and a crushing jumping knee strike to his chin. Jules was caught off-guard by Larson, who swung a heavy trash can at full speed into her back. She swung her foot towards his head but was blocked when he pulled the trash can up as a shield, leaving him to follow through with a haymaker; this time, he did it correctly. Jules recovered too quickly for Larson, allowing her to head-butt him, breaking the arch of his nose. Blood began to pour out of his nostrils when she grabbed him by the throat, her nose flaring and a look of excitement and desire blazing from her golden eyes. Without provocation, her face went human again, the excitement turning to disdain. She tossed Larson to the side and turned around in time to connect with Lock's two fists. She stumbled backwards and tripped over Larson, who held her legs like a child while Lock jumped on top of her, screaming words of reason and trying to restrain her.  
Gene jumped to his feet and searched through the trash can Larson had hit Jules with, throwing out burger wrappers, beer cans, and eventually finding an old, rusted golf putter. Jules reached her other foot around and kicked Larson in the face, who promptly passed out. She shrugged off Lock's grip on her and kneed him in the groin, then using both her free feet to toss him backwards into and through the wooden bench behind her. She rolled onto her upper back and flipped to her feet with ease, then hunching over after the charge by Gene who swung the golf club at full speed into her stomach. Gene reeled back again and slammed the club into her back, dropping her to her knees. With a slight moment of hesitation, he bit his lip and swung again for her head; she quickly brought her arm up and took the blow to her ribs, capturing the club in her armpit. She swung the club and caught him in the face, not at full speed, but definitely enough to blur his vision quite a bit. He turned his back to her and hunched over, trying desperately to regain his senses; she took the advantage and began choking him with the club, bending it with her new strength to wrap around his throat. Once it was tight enough, she kicked him to the ground, grasping at the club, trying to loosen it enough to open his airways again. She turned to tend to Larson and Lock only to take a deep cut across her face, tearing the skin from the bottom of her left eye, through both lips, and to the tip of her chin. She cried out and spit blood, looking up to find her lover holding a sharp, wooden piece of the bench she previously put him through. Her eyes widened with fear, her legs catching full speed to run the other way. Larson woke up and stumbled over to Gene, yelling for Lock to help him release his friend. They pulled on the two ends of the club just enough to slip Gene's head through, who gasped for air frenetically.  
Larson's ears perked up, "Do you two hear those sirens?"  
"What..... the hell..... man?" Gene shrieked between gasps.  
"Fabini got his wish. She's turned," Lock stated dismally.  
"Well, Lock, if you don't to come, I understand, but we have to stop her," Gene ardently spoke up, having composed himself.  
"I'm not sure that's our immediate concern, gentlemen. The sirens?" Larson became frantic.  
"No doubt they're stopping at the hospital first. That should save us some time, but they will be on their way. There had to have been some kind of disturbance call, the way people fled."  
"I'm surprised we didn't have a crowd watching us, in fact," Larson said.  
"Give people their credit," Gene said, pulling himself to his feet, "Three-on-one is a fight, but when a woman whips three men's asses, takes two full swings from a metal club like they're nothing, and then bend the club into a nice little bow like she did, they tend to pick up on the situation being not quite right....."  
"C'mon," Lock demanded, "My conscience is having a hard enough time letting Jules get killed, but anybody she kills is on my head, too!" He took off running; Gene gave a confused look to Larson and they followed suit.  
There was no trail of destruction to follow, but there were plenty of confused and slightly amused pedestrians providing a narrow direction for the three to search. Larson was very closed to passing out again, not being in the shape needed to fight vampires and sprint several blocks at a time. Lock stopped quickly and ducked down an alley, pulling the other two with him. A cop car came to a stop right across from the alley they jumped into. Larson held his breath and curled tightly into the shadows. The police officer hopped out of his car with his gun drawn, walking away from the alley and instead through the broken glass of the butcher's shop he parked in front of. "Oh Lord!" Lock breathed, "She's in that shop. She must have smelled the animal blood in there!"  
"She's a vampire now..... Why wouldn't she have just killed one of the people back there?" Gene asked.  
"She'll kill that cop if we don't do something," Lock said, sneaking out of the alley. He motioned to Gene to follow, who snuck closely behind his partner. The officer on the scene was nervous, more than likely a rookie or new to Cleveland and trying to make an impression, heading in to stop a possible robbery before his back-up arrives. He stepped slowly across the broken glass and into the main selling room, gun raised and flashlight drawn, whipping the beam of light to every corner of the room, both instruments shaking in his hand tremendously. His light caught the door to the back, slightly ajar with handled broken and rolling on the floor. His gulp was loud enough to cover the sound of two sets of footsteps slipping through the glass window. The officer stepped slowly closer to the open door to the back when one of those footsteps slipped slight on the broken glass. He lashed the light ferociously around but caught an elbow to his hands, disarming him and sending the flashlight crashing to the floor, busting the bulb. The room was black with the exception of a few streaks of street light beaming in from the windows. The officer couldn't see faces but he could clearly feel two arms reaching underneath his, hands pressing on the back of his head pushing forward in a classic full nelson hold. A whispered voice rang in the officer's ear, saying, "I'm very sorry for this, but this is for your protection alone." A second figure, shrouded in shadows, leapt towards the officer with a balled fist, knocking him out with a haymaker.  
Larson stepped through the window, disgruntled, "So now we're into fighting with the police, are we?"  
"He's better off nursing a black eye than he is in a casket," Lock said, "She's in here." Lock opened up the door and turned on the light. The room was relatively normal with the spanning shelves of various goods. The only oddity was the door to the refrigerated meat locker was open wide and slight crying noises came from the inside. The three slowly approached the door and stepped inside. The locker was much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, not at all what they expected from just a local butcher's shop, but nothing abnormal either. Racks of meat, ranging from packaged hams and turkeys and other small meats laid out on shelves to hanging carcasses for steaks hung from the ceiling and lined the walls. Slowly weaving between the carcasses, they came to the back of the locker to find the blood bank of the butchery, each container broken and blood splattered everywhere. As it is, every major city with any kind of vampiric populace has at least one or two butchers who know what's what about vampires, and they tend to sell them containers of pig or cow blood without question or hassle. While animal blood certainly isn't the most appetizing replacement for human blood, it is more likely used as a snack between kills or sustenance when they are hiding or running from a crazed mob of sorts. Larson began choking and hacking, falling backwards onto his back and holding his kerchief to his mouth and nose. Even Gene was taken aback from the odor and the sight of the ruby liquid covering the corner of the room. Lock, however, was set on his goal, continuing his search through the hanging meat racks. The sirens rang closer and the sniffling and crying had stopped; Lock became discouraged.  
"Okay, she may have snuck out behind us. We have to get out of here before the cops come and....." Lock's statement came quickly to a close when Jules darted out from behind a rack and jumped on top of him. The large wooden stake flew from his hands and spun across the floor. Gene grabbed it as quickly as he could and crouched as if to strike when he suddenly stopped himself. Covered in blood, apparently from the containers she drank from, Jules laid in Lock's arms, crying like she's never cried before. Lock held her like he had done so many nights before, begging for her to tell him she's alright. She sobbed uncontrollably, stopping quickly to breathe and then go right back into weeping. Lock's eyes spread like wildfire, glaring at the feeble frame he's holding.  
"What's the matter, Lock?" Gene asked, nerves shot and scared out of his mind.  
"She's..... I cant believe it..... She's breathing like she just ran a marathon. Her heart is racing, like, a thousand miles an hour..... She's warm....." he said in a low tone of disbelief.  
Larson stepped forward, mouth dropped and glasses in hand, ".....she's alive?" 


End file.
